


First Class

by that_one_kid



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: AU, Based off of a tumblr post about what someone saw happen at an airport once, First Meeting, Gen, i like mustang he's only OOC to match the tumblr post, riza hawkeye is a good work bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_kid/pseuds/that_one_kid
Summary: Riza Hawkeye has had enough of the shit airport customers give her. It's too bad she got fed up just as Colonel Mustang showed up. Or is it?





	First Class

It had already been a long and trying day in a week of long and trying days when the crowded flight was canceled. Riza was technically off-shift, but Kain called her on her cell as she was walking out of the Ciudad Central airport. 

“Havoc’s at the desk and they just canceled an international flight!” he’d said, his voice high and panicked. “There are 150 passengers who just got stranded and he’s gonna KILL SOMEBODY!” Riza didn’t let herself sigh until she’d hung up the phone and started the walk back to the counter. She waved Havoc away, and he rolled his wheelchair out from behind the desk with a wave of thanks and an extraordinarily grateful look. Riza swept her hair up into its customary bun, grabbed her best pen from her pocket, and stood resolutely behind the desk. 

“Cancelled?” came a shriek from the gate, and she waited for the rush to the desk to begin. There was a beat, and then travelers started flooding the walkway in a sleep-deprived attempt to prevent being trapped at the airport. She was four disgruntled customers in, her usual cool efficiency helping to keep the crowd under control, when a young man in a dark blue uniform with striking white gloves on shoved his way to the front of the queue. 

“I HAVE to be on this flight, and it has to be FIRST CLASS!” he snapped, slamming his gloved hands down on her table. Riza kept her smile polite, although her free hand had drifted to the taser she kept in her side pocket. 

“I’m sorry sir,” she said, her voice clipped and calm. “I’ll be happy to try to help you, but I’ve got to help these folks first, and then I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.” The man’s hands curled up, and his lips curled. 

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?” he shouted. Riza felt a cold weight settle in her stomach, and she offered him her unsettlingly practiced smile. She grabbed the public address microphone. “May I have your attention, please?” The man’s eyebrows rose. “We have a passenger here at Gate 14 WHO DOES NOT KNOW WHO HE IS. If anyone can help him with his identity, please come to Gate 14,” Riza continued, distantly aware of the laughter of the crowd. The man gritted his teeth, almost audibly.

“Fuck you,” he growled, and she turned the smile up another notch from unsettling to terrifying. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to get in line for that too,” she said, and he gave her a long, indecipherable look from dark eyes before storming off to the back of the line. She kept working her way through the (now mostly subdued) line of customers, until she saw Falman hovering in the corner of her vision. His face was half awe and half incredulity. The very last customer she had to deal with before going home was the same customer who had started the whole mess. When he came to the counter, he appeared quieter than his earlier self. 

“I would like to apologize, Ms…” he glanced at her nametag. “...Hawkeye,” 

“Just Hawkeye will do,” Riza said, reaching for his ticket. “How can I help you?”

“Well, I’ll need a first-class ticket to the Eastern Army Command Center,” the man said. “But if you’d really like to help me, I’m looking to hire a capable second-in-command. A civilian. Maybe someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to the Flame Alchemist?” 

“And?” Riza said, pulling up first-class tickets to the Eastern Army Command Center. “You’re thinking I could be this mystery assistant?” 

“What do you say?” he said, holding out a gloved hand for a handshake. There was a long pause, and then Riza took it. She also booked two seats on that flight.

“I’m probably about to be fired from the airport now, anyway,” she said, nodding reassuringly at a panicked-looking Kain hovering near Falman. “And someone has to keep you from terrifying other customer service specialists.” 

“You were terrified?” the man asks Riza, smirking. She stood up, letting him see the taser she was holding easily in one hand. 

“I said  _ other _ customer service specialists,” she said. “What’s your name, Colonel?” 

“Colonel Mustang,” he said, tugging off one glove to hold up the white glove with red symbols embroidered on it. “Flame Alchemist,” 

“Riza Hawkeye,” she responded. “Sniper. Shall we?”


End file.
